


The Wayward Missive

by missema



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Love Letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kmeme prompt for Elissa Cousland finding a letter written by Alistair, like in the movie "Atonement".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wayward Missive

Elissa was tired, achy and downright grumpy as she walked away from camp, seeking both solitude and a well-formed rock. They had been from Redcliffe to the Circle Tower and back to Redcliffe without a break, trying to save Connor from his own misguided attempts to help his father. It had been difficult to say the least, to keep going and working quickly knowing that there was much, so much in front of them. Redcliffe had been saved, but the Arl was still in peril and Elissa had yet to visit Orzammar or call on the Dalish elves to gain their assistance. The grumpier part of her wondered if this would truly stop the Blight, all of this roaming across Thedas. The archdemon might just get tired of giving her the chance to build an army and just attack, she thought grimly as a frown crossed her face.

At least now Wynne had joined their party, another mage that was a gifted healer, a quality that Morrigan did not possess. Elissa was exhausted, weary to the core from their lengthy adventure back to Redcliffe, but it was her turn to polish the armor. They did things in turns, mostly her idea to keep Alistair from cooking all the time, but she also found that the change helped her lead, showed her companions that she wasn't above pitching in and doing the smaller, somewhat unpleasant but necessary tasks.

If she stayed at camp to do her work, it would never get done. She would be besieged by questions and her mabari, Yogurt, would jump around her, wanting to go play. Sten would glare and ask her if she were female, Wynne would offer well-meaning counsel as she'd tried to already, Alistair would complain about Morrigan, who would in turn watch him, as if she could hear him voice his complaints. And Leliana, well there were times when Elissa was certain the woman was much more than just a Chantry Sister, more than someone seeking succor, but she'd let her confess on her own terms.

Finding a clear spot next to a boulder of sufficient size to lay out pieces of leather armor, Elissa sat down in the soft grass and put her back against the rock. A nearby copse of trees made lengthy shadows that played in the evening sun and she could hear the gurgle of a creek nearby but just out of sight. Sighing softly, she started with Sten's armor, doing the heaviest pieces first and with care, trying not to earn further disdain from her qunari companion.

The monotony of her task lulled her into a calm that had eluded her before, and she was glad for the seclusion. It was still light out, but the sunset wasn't far off now, the air around her had grown more heavy and fragrant, promising a warm night. Elissa was still wearing her own armor, saving it for last and not wanting to be vulnerable as she sat and worked at her task.

She carefully placed Leliana's leather armor atop the giant boulder where she'd been sitting, laying the pieces out so that the oil could seep into the clean leather. The warm scent of the leather and the oil wafted up to her nose, familiar and comforting as Elissa went to work on the leather straps of Alistair's armor.

She cleaned and polished the leather parts first, working the oil in before moving onto the metal. As she lifted the heavy splintmail, a piece of paper fluttered to the ground from within the suit of armor itself. Confused, Elissa reached over to grab the scrap of parchment, worried that the slight breeze or a small animal might take it away before she could give it back to Alistair. Without thought, she opened the paper, hoping that it would give some clue as to where it had dropped from and she could discreetly tuck it back in without his guessing she'd seen it. __

_If only I could have you, really have you in the way I've never known a woman.  All my dreams are of going to sleep next to you at night, so that I may have the pleasure of making love to you every morning, waking you with the most delicious of starts to your day.  My hands long to rake lazily through your dark hair, more beautiful than the night sky._

Elissa gasped as she read the scrawled note, undoubtedly written in Alistair's nearly illegible hand.  Had she not had some practice in reading his words before, she wouldn't have been able to decipher the note now.  This note - it could be about either her or Morrigan, for they both shared the feature of raven hair.  Her brow furrowed she thought about Alistair, whom she now knew to be the unlikeliest of princes.  

He was innocent, virginal and it made him insecure; when she'd asked him about it, he'd made a joke calling her interrogation 'cruel' but then saying that lunch would 'make everything better.'  Surely this couldn't be about her - he'd never displayed any feelings toward her whatsoever, but maybe, maybe his hatred of Morrigan was a ruse to disguise his true feelings towards the apostate.  Looking back down at the note, Elissa's hands trembled a little as she read on, ignoring the nervous fluttering of anticipation in her stomach.  Part of her, a very large part wanted this to be about her, not Morrigan.  
 _  
Could I be so bold as to describe my dreams?  They are hardly the thing a gentleman talks of with a lady, but I know that you shall never read this and that makes me more courageous.  My kisses heat the length of your neck as your silken legs rub against my own, and my hands trace words of love against your bare skin.  I kiss you all over, moving down from your neck after one more kiss to your sweet lips.  Maker, I imagine you taste like honey, warm and sweet.  I would kiss the shapely breasts that I admire so brazenly, my hands would squeeze the bottom that I watch so ardently whenever we venture out together._

Abandoning her task, Elissa slid Alistair's armor off of her lap. It felt cumbersome and too heavy, all of her attention diverted to the letter in her hand.  The penmanship had grown more sure, the strokes bold and heavy as the letter went on.  Elissa knew that this had been meant to be private, but she could not and **would not** stop herself from reading on.

_When the time comes, I am ready, in fact embarrassingly eager to couple with you, to have you show me what it is you would like me to do.  What talents bring you the most pleasure?  You need only name them and I shall endeavor to become a master of each.  I know little of the act of love, and when I place my body above yours, looking into the depths of your trusting grey eyes, I am always started into a waking state, my dreams ending there.  I am denied in the Fade what I have no knowledge of, even my dreams do not allow me to be your lover._

Grey eyes?  A triumphant blush rose in Elissa originating at her overheated core.  She alone had grey eyes in the party.  The thought it could have been Morrigan had only been to soothe herself from the awful, aching idea that she'd somehow missed something with Alistair.  But there was no doubt that Alistair had inked these words about her - to her.  The knowledge sent a trill of lust through her and something else, she was flattered but also curious as to how she'd inspired him to think, let alone to put to paper such desires.

_I admit, I do not dream this as often as I would like, but I much prefer the delicious torture of dreams of you to the nightmares I have suffered since Ostagar.  Oftentimes in your sleep, you cry out; the sad, keening noises stemming from the pain of our shared nightmares.  I wish that I were with you, could kiss you awake to world that is not yet as terrible as your dreams, to change those anguished noises into moans that leave only my name on your perfect lips.  If only I could be so brave, my lady._

The letter ended there and Elissa sat for a moment, fanning her blazing face with the worn parchment.  Holy Maker, how had she missed Alistair falling in love with her?  The letter was so charmingly risque, yet chaste; he knew not of the intimacies of a woman's body and used the word kiss where other men would be more descriptive.  Finishing her task quickly, she was quite certain that this was the worst job she'd ever done on her own armor, Elissa nearly ran the distance back to camp in the setting sun.

Alistair was near the end of her path, just on the edge of camp near the thicket of bushes that were closest to her dear hound. She looked at the outline of his masculine form, one bulky arm slightly bigger than the other, only visible to her because he was wearing linens and not the armor that usually disguised it. He was so handsome, what she'd merely appreciated before she now speculated about, her mind undressing him as she drew closer.

Beside him was the pile of weapons that he was tending to, his assigned task. She heard him humming happily to himself as she approached, watching him tend to a greatsword with long, gentle strokes of a hand made strong from swordplay.

 _What would it be like to take the place of that weapon?_ Elissa wondered, causing a blush to flood her face again.

"Alistair." Elissa addressed him, eager to speak but not knowing quite what to say to him. The words of his letter flooded back to her, and she became shy under his gaze. In her sweaty palm she crushed the wayward missive that had started this, hoping that he didn't notice her tightly clenched fist. Inwardly she tried to calm herself by thinking that she had the advantage of knowing how he felt already, but her heart still raced.

"Something on your mind?" Alistair grinned up at her, wondering what caused the disarmingly cute blush that gave her cheeks a dusky glow.

"Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" Elissa blurted out, stammering slightly as she said it.

"Not unless they wanted something. Well, there was this one time in Denerim, but those women were... not like you." He said slowly. "Wait, you don't want me to finish the armor, do you, or is this your way of telling me that **you** think I'm handsome?"

"What if it is? What then?" Elissa asked in a falsely calm but slightly breathy voice, the air caught in her throat. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, the thudding only intensified by Alistair's widening smile.

"Nothing much, I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while." He answered softly, am almost proud look gracing his fine features. Elissa smiled back at him, relief and excitement running through her veins in equal measure.

She walked away, slowly swaying her hips as she did, ready to drop the various armor off to the respective owners and she could feel him, his gaze and his smile on her back. Over her shoulder, she threw him one last, true smile, wide and inviting before she walked over to Sten, Alistair's illicit letter still clutched in her hand.


End file.
